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Mary Lou Hatcher guided us in worship in FCNL’s 2025 Annual Meeting, held virtually. Over the next week, we will feature her notes as revised for publication. 

The United Church of Christ has for some years flown a banner saying, “God is still speaking.”   How exactly might Spirit be speaking to us, here, in this virtual room of tiny squares?

How might we prepare ourselves to listen in this time of loss and chaos; this time of tremendous overwhelm?  

What is the interior journey, and what are some practices that will nurture us and guide our walk?

How do we prepare ourselves for our own healing, and for our roles in shaping and repairing our communities?

I am going to offer three guideposts: the courage to see, the discipline of spiritual replenishment, and a commitment to kindness.

It takes courage to look reality in the eye – to see it as it really is, not as we wish it to be.

It takes the discipline of deep rest and spiritual practices, individual and corporate, to find guidance.

It takes commitment to take the necessary next step, and our best guide for commitment may well be kindness.

So how can we cultivate courage to see reality, spiritual awareness and a commitment to kindness?

We might begin by noticing these qualities in ourselves and others – as they show up in big ways and in tiny ways – and linger there – with what we notice – and fan those flames of courage, insight and kindness.

And, conversely, we might also notice, cultural patterns, or biases, that cloud or distort the path we are pursuing – harmful cultural myths, if you will.

First, we need to cultivate the courage to look reality in the eye – to see it as it really is, not as we wish it to be. Bridget spoke to this in her first reflection in our Opening Session as she said: “face the assault, lean in, get proximate to need.”  

Back in January of this year when the assault on liberties, the rule of law and basic decency began with such overwhelming speed, one thing that seemed to happen was a lot of wailing such as “I can’t believe this is happening” and “they can’t do this.” I heard a big dose of disbelief.    

We had plenty of warning, why the disbelief?  

Perhaps we have a big cultural bias for progress – assuming continual growth. Our financial system is based on an every-quarter expansion and our natural resources extraction is based on unlimited supply.  Even if we, in this faith community, say we don’t hold this bias of continual growth, it is the water in which we swim.  

Is moral progress inherently human?  Oh, I wish it were so.  

But history, as Tim Snyder speaks to in On Tyranny, is full of contradictions. Knowing that does not fully protect us from wishing it were otherwise.  The cost of that wishing is not seeing the reality before us with clarity and then courage.

Unwillingness to clearly see reality can get us caught in what Buddhists might call secondary suffering; our anxiety and rage dwells on thoughts such as “this is not fair, this cannot be happening,” rather than the real suffering itself, so hard to bear, of “this is devastating, what is my next best step?”  

When I notice my thoughts repeating and repeating, or when I find myself endlessly circling the kitchen table, I get a hint that I am dwelling on secondary suffering.  

The practice of lingering, noticing, and leaning in to real suffering is not easy but it is the courageous way to engage life as it is, not as we wish it to be. Then we can face present loss with present courage and signs of future harm without denial. We live wide awake.   I wonder what might have unfolded if Tim Snyder’s warnings had been taken more seriously, more courageously, in 2017 when they were first published.

Noticing the reality of loss and harm may also open us to seeing evolving realities within the loss. Snyder alluded to this as he spoke about systems that might evolve out of current policy losses; ones that are actually healthier than what they replace.

I wonder if you have ever experienced newness of life in the presence of loss?

If you have ever experienced a kind of bittersweet grief, I invite you to hold that experience close – as a guide to practicing courage.

Parts 2 and 3 of this reflection will be published later this week.